


Winter in Moscow

by FallenGabriella



Series: Infection [2]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenGabriella/pseuds/FallenGabriella
Summary: Jill wants to tell Nicholai something while vacationing in Moscow.
Relationships: Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Jill Valentine
Series: Infection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709857
Comments: 15
Kudos: 62





	Winter in Moscow

"Why are you here, Miss Valentine?" Nicholai's eyes narrowed, following every curve and dip of her body with caution. He wore all black, with a scarf more grey than green around his neck. His gloved hands flexed at his sides, as if feeling the knife she knew lay beneath, assuring himself of its weight. 

"I heard it was beautiful." Jill answered evenly, her lips rising into a smile. His gaze remained hard, unflinching. She didn't have any weapons. Only the grey peacoat that hugged her form, leading into slimming, thermal black trousers, and knee high blue boots. Not that she told him that. He probably wouldn't believe her anyway.

"Is that the only reason?" His voice dripped with suspicion, still watching her under a furrowed brow. She turned on her heel, biting her bottom lip to stop her grin.

"Why don't you find out, _Mister_ _Ginovaef_?"

It was the closest thing to a date they ever had. She almost laughed at the irony. Nicholai trailed after her at first, watching her window shop with a scowl. He drew closer by the noon, his steps barely shadowing hers. She saw his throat work when she paused at a lingerie store, striding out with a bag swinging from her wrist. When she almost walked into a restaurant, he grabbed her hand, hauling her away with a grumbled "nyet." They ate at a cafe, with soft cakes made from 'Bird's Milk', and she had tea with lots of cream. He had coffee, black as his coat. When they left, she tangled her fingers with his, pushing her body into his side. Nicholai didn't say a word, merely followed her as she spent the rest of the day visiting various stores. He paid for several items before she could, refusing to meet her eye every time... She'd never thought of him as the type to spoil a woman.

By evening, they were striding down a bridge. She had dropped off her purchases to be shipped to her father's in France. Jill held his arm, cheek pressed to his warm bicep, warding off the numbness with his heat. When he paused beneath a streetlamp, she pulled away, slipping around him to raise her arms. He leaned down, letting her wrap them around his neck with ease.

Jill's hand stroked up his nape, her palm tingling as she ran her fingers into his short, silver hair. She pressed her lips to his, offering him a taste of her heart, which throbbed against the back of her throat. Let him eat it, let him tear it apart, if only to free her from the beautifully cruel, cold view of Moscow. With its fairy tale spires, its harsh, wonderful language, and equally interesting people. With its snow that stuck to lash and lip, clinging to the inside of lungs, sinking into the tips of fingers, and staining ears blue. She never wanted to taste its crisp, bitter winds, knowing she would never taste the citrus of his kiss again.

She wanted to be tormented by the sweetness of memory. She wanted to forget it all like the most exquisite nightmare.

If only to remember how his arms felt around her, crushing her to his powerful chest, with his long fingers branded into her ribs. She could feel his breaths in her lungs, swirling with his scent, spicy and metallic. Her toes would ache if not for his strength, sweeping her weight out from beneath her, letting her float off the ground light as a flake of snow in his hair. He was silver and pale, white and evergreen and grey. She wanted to sink into him, to drown into the safety of his heat and body.

"Я люблю тебя." Against his lips, with stars behind her closed eyes. While her courage could overpower her fear, in the wake of his kiss, that left her broken and still breathing. "Я люблю тебя." She opened her eyes this time, taking in his own. Bright and flashing, with the curve of a blade still hiding below. His brow furrowed, as if he did not understand. As if all knowledge of his birth language had fled him, left him frozen and transfixed on her.

She waited for him to shove her away, to leave her crumpled in the ice. Jill had convinced herself she would be able to pick herself back up, dust off the snow. She would return to her hotel room, pack, and be gone before the sun graced those glittering spires.

She didn't expect his teeth, his tongue, the clash of his lips against hers. For his nose to dig into her cheek, for his stubble to burn a new wave of blush into her skin. His grip tightened, arms crushing her, her breaths stuttering as he forced air from her lungs. Jill's breaths tasted only of him. Not even Moscow, not even the winter, not even his scent. Just Nicholai.

"Скажи это снова." Nicholai pulled away, gasping and growling so hard it rattled her bones. He came back to her mouth, tongue slicing against her own, stealing every breath she could take. She could feel the darkness pressing in, desperate to breathe, aching to be devoured by him. "Скажи это снова."

"Я люблю тебя!" Jill gasped more than said, mouth slipping against his. Her grip tightened in his hair, teeth clicking against his. Copper mixed with steel, her lungs too empty and full. She couldn't even whine, couldn't groan. Every sound she gave was consumed, fed to the wolf whose silver pelt she had always loved. She ran her fingers through it, short and soft, prickling her fingertips.

They barely made it back to her hotel room, overlooking the plaza. They couldn't let go of each other in the elevator, stumbling down the hall in a torrent of kisses and gasps, grasping onto each other hungrily. Nicholai almost kicked her door down after she fumbled with her key card one too many times, his hands clasping her thighs. He dragged her up just as it flung open, striking it shut behind them with his heel. Jill clung to him, sinking her fingers into the meat of his shoulders, scratching at his nape. He dropped her onto the bed, tearing at his coat, and tugging his shirt over his head. Jill did the same, both of their hands going for his belt at the same time. As soon as his pants hit the floor, she fell back, his alone clawing at her.

"Скажи это снова." Against her neck, her shoulder, her thighs. He said it over and over again, deep in his throat, rolling off his tongue onto her skin. As if his breaths alone could brand it into her...

"Я люблю тебя." Jill answered him every time, sliding her hands down his back, nails biting and dragging down the grooves of his chest and abs. She gasped them into the cool air of the hotel room, beneath the glow of Moscow's silvery winter, the night sky awash with pink and azure and emerald and orange. They fell over the edge together, with her screaming his name, and him growling hers into her aching throat.

"Я люблю тебя." One last time, before sleep claimed her. She whispered it against his chest, over his throbbing heart, above a scar she recognized...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation (I cheated and used Google):
> 
> "Я люблю тебя." = "I love you."
> 
> "Скажи это снова." = "Say it again."
> 
> Short and sweet, yeah? >:D
> 
> I was working on a longer work for these two, but I kept changing it. The first one I sort of liked, but ended up not finishing based on not knowing where to go. The premise, however, I kept. I'm desperate to explore it, but unsure of how yet. Then, I started another one with a very specific idea that I'm far closer to finishing.
> 
> I've no idea when or how this would ever occur, but I was very inspired to write Jill telling Nicholai she loved him in Russian. And him losing it afterwards. He didn't say it himself, but I believe his reaction is telling enough.
> 
> I'm not sure what's going on with my writing style. Could be the fact I'm on mobile (a tablet), that I haven't written anything but RP for ages (I love RP. Hit me up yo.), or because I haven't read much in ages (I'm working on that). I'm not really happy with where it is at the moment. I feel like I could do better with the detail. I feel like I have done better before. Maybe I should go back and investigate some of my old work...
> 
> Also, my smut scenes have been lacking too. I want to deepen the intimacy, the _feelings_ , but there's just so many motions to tackle. So many emotions, five senses, and conflicting desires. >_> Anyway.......
> 
> Yeah, _Infection_ is an excuse to write a series of (probably) unrelated oneshots of Valenvaef. Ugh. I feel as if I'm not doing Nicholai any justice either. I want him to be darker, to push him into the realm of truly creepy and cruel as he is in the game, while toning up his obsession for Jill. Luckily, I think one of my prompts will really allow me to explore a truly dark Nicholai. Be ready for the scare. >;3

**Author's Note:**

> Translation (I used Google like a cheater):
> 
> "Я люблю тебя." = "I love you.”
> 
> "Скажи это снова." = "Say it again."
> 
> xxx
> 
> Short and sweet, yeah? >:D
> 
> I am working on a longer work for these guys, but I kept changing it. The first one I sort of liked, but ended up not finishing based on not knowing where to go. The premise, however, I kept. I'm desperate to explore it, but unsure of how yet. Then, I started another one with a very specific idea that I'm far closer to finishing.
> 
> I've no idea when or how this would ever occur, but I was very inspired to write Jill telling Nicholai she loved him in Russian. And him losing it afterwards.
> 
> He didn't say it himself, but I believe his reaction is telling enough. I'm not sure what's going on with my writing style. Could be the fact I'm on mobile (a tablet), that I haven't written anything but RP for ages (I love RP. Hit me up yo.), or because I haven't read much in ages (I'm working on that). I'm not really happy with where it is at the moment. I feel like I could do better with the detail. I feel like I have done better before. Maybe I should go back and investigate some of my old work... Also, my smut scenes have been lacking too. I want to deepen the intimacy, the feelings, but there's just so many motions to tackle. So many emotions, five senses, and conflicting desires.
> 
> >_> Anyway.......
> 
> Yeah, _Infection_ is an excuse to write a series of (probably) unrelated one-shots of Valenvaef.  
> Ugh. I feel as if I'm not doing Nicholai any justice either. I want him to be darker, to push him into the realm of truly creepy and cruel as he is in the game, while toning up his obsession for Jill. Luckily, I think one of my prompts will really allow me to explore a truly dark Nicholai.
> 
> Be ready for the scare. >;3


End file.
